A Lost Illusion
by Answer
Summary: Sometimes there are no heroes or villains. Sometimes we have to submit to the lesser of two evils. Sometimes people can't be redeemed. Sometimes we do what we have to do to hang onto the last shred of hope. -Dark AU, Stockholm Syndrome-
1. Her Provincial Town

_I try not to overwhelm my stories by starting with enormous Author's Notes, but in this case I think it's important that I make an exception. In fact, I'm actually writing this before I even start writing the chapter, so that I can get my thoughts in order. Obviously you can feel free to skim or even skip this if you wish, but I want to be sure that I've put the explanation out there, and then you can take it or leave it._

_The first thing I need to say is that this story is going to be dark. Not disturbingly dark, and hopefully not just unrelentingly miserable from start to finish, but different to the cheerful, will-they, won't-they, of-course-they-will stuff I usually write. Because in this story, they won't. This isn't a love story. It's a story about desperation, manipulation and self-deception with a bit of Stockholm syndrome thrown in. Because what happened to Belle in the movie was terrifying, and I don't think she could be blamed for losing her grip on reality somewhat._

_If you've read my one-shot, Captivity (which I'll take down after this story has progressed a bit), you'll know roughly what this is about. Basically, it's a new perspective on the movie. It's a suggestion that all the goodness and kindness we see in the Beast is a construction by Belle as a response to the situation she's in. I'll be telling it from a few different perspectives, starting here with Belle (although perhaps not how we're used to thinking of her). Hopefully, it's not that the characters are OOC (though please tell me if you find it otherwise!), it's that I'm looking at the story not just without my rose-coloured Disney-specs on, but with the aim of finding something dark and a bit unnerving there. I should also point out that although this basically follows the movie scene-by-scene, I'll cut some bits out if my alterations to the story won't change them enough to make them interesting. For that reason, this first chapter, in particular, is a bit fragmented, but things will get a lot more in-depth once the story moves to the castle, because that's where my changes really take place._

_This whole idea came out of an amazing discussion over at the Bittersweet and Strange forum (_z6 (dot) invisionfree (dot) com (slash) bittersweet (underscore) strange_, join us!) about darker themes in fanfiction and was then further developed in a workshopping session on MSN, so I'd like to thank Trudi (who is also responsible for the title!), Liz, Samoa, Klaske and Emily for all their help and suggestions (I'm so sorry if I've missed anyone!)._

_I understand that this isn't going to be for everyone, and I totally understand if some of my regular readers and online friends don't like it. Don't worry, I'm still working on Relapse and Camera Obscura! But if this idea does interest you, please let me know your thoughts! This has provoked some fascinating discussion so far and I'd love some more._

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><p><strong>Chapter One – Her Provincial Town<strong>

_Once upon a time, there was a girl named Belle. She was beautiful and she loved to read. The simple village folk around her imagined that she must have everything her heart desired but there was one thing that she longed for above all else. With all her heart, Belle wished for..._

"_Adventure,_" Belle breathed, almost inaudibly, sinking down onto the edge of the fountain with a little sigh. She lowered her book into her lap for a moment.

It would do as a beginning. After all, very few of the best stories started with the hero – _heroine_ – in some blissful state of perfection, and those that did would shortly have to plunge them into some form of distress and unpleasantness if they were going to go anywhere. Without something to wish for, there couldn't be a story. So really, she mused, she ought to be grateful for the crushing _ennui_ of this poor provincial town and all the silly little people that lived there. The endless repetition of the morning dance that constituted the opening of the day's trade, the chorus of _Bonjours_ and the bubbling undercurrent of gossip from which she had been excluded since their first day in the village were nothing but a rich background tapestry that would illustrate the opening pages of her life. Belle was a young woman of strong convictions and one of them was this: that her life would extend far further than the confines of this village, or even those surrounding it. The people here thought of her and Papa as undesirably exotic because they had come from a town fifty miles away and could read words longer than two syllables without breaking a sweat. She couldn't even begin to imagine how they could live that way, enclosed in their own points of view like that. She knew with every certainty that her life would be different, and it was this determined opinion that allowed her to float, almost undisturbed, through the day-to-day realities of village life.

Today, though, village life took a more proactive approach to invading her personal universe, in the shape of Gaston, who was flanked, as always, by Lefou. Gaston was another point on which Belle had strong convictions.

"Hello, Belle." His smile was genuine. He was pleased to see her. Life in the village had been losing some of its charm until Belle and her father had arrived some months ago. After the death of his uncle, the younger Gaston had been easily the greatest hunter in the village. He'd also been able to pretty much name his price for meat and fur, so he'd quickly become the wealthiest bachelor in the village as well – and it hadn't exactly been difficult to attract female attention before. These days, Gaston was always on the lookout for something to challenge him. In his daydreams, this had taken the form of some strange new creature that he and he alone, using all his skill and strength, would track over the course of several days and eventually drag home to a hero's welcome. But a strange new girl would do for now, especially when she looked like that, and she was very good at playing hard-to-get. He was enjoying the thrill of the chase. On the other hand, though, he was dimly aware that he wouldn't be young and fit forever, and he was going to have to settle down with a wife and family soon if he was going to have someone to support him in his old age. More than that, he wanted someone to share his skills with. The idea of a future in which the town's best hunter was not a Gaston disturbed him.

It was apparent to Belle that some form of response would be unavoidable. "_Bonjour_, Gaston." Her muscles tensed as he snatched the book from her. She longed to take it back, but politeness restrained her. "Gaston, may I have my book, please?"

Gaston devoted thirty very thoughtful seconds to trying to understand what was in his hands, which would have been proof to anyone who knew him well that Belle was a prize he really wanted to win. Gaston never tried if there was a possibility he could fail. He did what he did and he did it well. Perhaps that was what Belle was like, with her reading? You certainly never saw her doing anything else. He could admire that kind of single-minded thinking. He wanted her to admire it in him. Suddenly overtaken by the excitement of the idea, he tossed the book aside. "What do you say we take a walk over to the tavern and look at my trophies?"

Belle stooped to pick up her book, eyes burning invisible holes through the mud. What was he, some kind of animal? She had no doubt that being too brainless to figure out which way up a book went could be frustrating to a person, but to damage it? "Maybe some other time. I have to get home to help my father."

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><p>"What about that Gaston?" Maurice innocently suggested later. "He's a handsome fellow."<p>

Belle flinched as though he had struck her. "Oh, he's handsome, alright." As though that made up for it! "And rude and conceited... Oh, Papa, he's not for me."

After all, stories were filled with people who were not what they appeared to be, just as Gaston appeared to be handsome and innocently ordinary but was actually an illiterate brute who seemed to expect her to regard his interest in her as some kind of blessing. As though all one had to do to win a lady's hand in marriage was – she shuddered at the thought – to ask her to come to the tavern and look at one's hunting trophies! She'd have dismissed the notion that anyone could be so overcome by good looks as to desire him, only those stupid girls who followed him around the village like a pack of swooning wolves were proof otherwise. And, besides, this was a point on which she had to disagree with some of the sillier characters in her favourite stories, those who fell in love with princes they encountered one spring evening in a wood on the strength of their smooth skin and strong jawlines. Well, that was alright for them, but she knew that _she_ would require rather more. In fact, she could fall in love with the ugliest man in the kingdom if proof could be found that his mind was sound and his heart was pure. She was sure of it.

Maurice eased himself out from under the machine and gave his beloved daughter an indulgent smile. "Well, not to worry. This invention's going to be the start of a new life for us."


	2. Her Sacrifice

**Later**

Lumière really, _really_ didn't want to be the one to break the silence, but someone had to.

"Master?"

A snap of the neck, hackles risen, lips curled back: "_What?_"

Yes, someone definitely had to say something. A man, an innocent, foolish passer-by was now an innocent, foolish prisoner. He couldn't leave him in that tower, he wouldn't – would he? It chilled Lumière to his very core to find that he didn't know. The Master wasn't... evil, not really, not actually, truly _evil_... He would relent. Probably. If it occurred to him. If anyone were brave enough to suggest it to him. He wasn't _evil_, but it would have been stretching a point to call him reasonable. There was a terrifyingly real possibility that that poor old man could be a casualty of stubbornness following a panicked decision by the Master. He couldn't have wanted this to happen. He just didn't know what else to do. That had to be it.

He couldn't verbalise any of this. Eventually, Mrs Potts caught his pleading look and stepped in. Metaphorically. Lumière was grateful – another moment of that and he might actually have melted. Could that happen?

"You have to let him go, dear."

The huge, white, gleaming teeth were clenched. _"Have to_? Are you giving me orders now?"

Mrs Potts believed too strongly in the essential goodness of humanity to feel the same fear that had silenced Lumière and appeared to have paralysed the nominally-present Cogsworth but, even so, she hesitated. After all, she couldn't be sure, not completely sure, how much humanity was left in the Master. She hated to think it, but it was a notion she couldn't get away from. None of them could. "N-no, of course not, dear. It's just that..." She pulled herself together. "Well, you can't very well keep him here forever, can you?"

"Can't?"

"Shouldn't. Mustn't. No, that is..." She closed her eyes, remembering him as a child, blue-eyed, beautiful. What had happened? It wasn't just the curse, she knew that. It hadn't exactly helped, but something had been lost long before then. And there it was, the other idea she couldn't escape: She was his nurse. It had been her job to love him, to bring him up to his parents' satisfaction. Evidently, she had failed. What would her younger self have thought, she wondered, to see her like this? Not just crockery, though no doubt that would have given her pause, but trying desperately to control a dangerous, monstrous overgrown child. How had this happened?

He should have been married now, a father, an adult. She tried to picture him: smooth-faced, smiling, content. Surely that man was still inside him, somewhere?

She tried again. "What I mean is... we would _advise _you to let him go. Isn't that right? Lumière, Cogsworth?"

"Exactly," said Lumière.

"Precisely," squeaked Cogsworth, arguably discovering a frequency that the human voice had never previously explored. Then, feeling that he owed it to his colleagues to contribute a little further, he coughed and added: "He's not doing us – er, you – any good. Though it's up to you, of course."

"Of course," Lumière confirmed.

"Absolutely," continued Cogsworth, warming to his theme.

"I know," snarled the Beast. "Which is why he stays. Understand?"

They understood. He stalked off, leaving a relieved silence in his wake. Mrs Potts allowed a safe distance to develop behind him, then excused herself: she had matters to attend to in the kitchen.

"Well," said Cogsworth. It seemed to summarise the situation.

"Indeed," Lumière returned.

Silence echoed once more.

Eventually, Cogsworth folded his arms. This was actually quite uncomfortable with the short, gilt appendages he had to work with, but Cogsworth's particular brand of pomposity was an art he was willing to suffer for. "Of course, I blame you for this."

Lumière wasn't exactly surprised. "You do not say."

Cogsworth overlooked this interruption. "Couldn't keep quiet, could we? Just had to invite him to stay, didn't we?" He put on a high-pitched, faux-French accent. "Serve 'im tea, sit in ze Master's chair, pet ze pooch."

Lumière had been unbearably difficult to agitate even before he'd been made of wax and brass. "I was trying to be hospitable."

"_Hello?"_

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Was that... a female voice? A strange, _human_,female voice? They knew it was impossible, but the sudden lurch in what passed for their stomachs suggested otherwise.

"Hello? Is anyone here? Papa?"

They stared at each other, unselfconsciously open-mouthed. It couldn't be.

But it was.

"Is someone there? Wait, I'm looking for my father, I..."

Lumière grabbed at Cogsworth's arm. The flammable timepiece leapt out of the way just in time.

"Be careful!"

Lumière withdrew his arm. "Sorry. I was just going to say – she must be the old man's daughter!"

"You're very astute."

"What?"

"Never mind. Look, you lead her to her father. I'll go and alert the Master. Understand?"

Lumière nodded, then, as Cogsworth left, mouthed "_Understand?"_ at his retreating back in a way that he would probably have considered insubordinate.

The sight of her pale father hunched behind those bars would stay with Belle forever. He was the only person in the whole world who meant anything to her, he _was_ her whole world, and to see him like this, a small, frail figure in a cavernous darkness froze every ounce of her resolve to be brave into sharp, fragile crystals.

Maurice stared through the darkness, wide-eyed, into his daughter's face. He had never been so happy to see her, and yet he wished desperately that she were far, far away. "How did you find me?"

Belle pressed his hand to her cheek. "Oh, your hands are like ice! We have to get you out of here."

In one hideous flash, Maurice saw what was going to happen, what had already happened. She had come to save him. His only daughter, whom he cherished so much more than life itself. She had come to his rescue. What had he been thinking, raising a decent, good, honest, loving young woman? A self-centred little brat, that was what he should have aimed for! A wicked, undeserving child who would have stayed safely at home and out of harm's way. What was the point of a kind heart if a monstrous Beast stopped it with one sharp, curved claw?

"Belle," he said, trying to communicate with his eyes an urgency, a desperation that he didn't have the words for. "I want you to leave this place." Even as he said it, he knew it wouldn't work. Belle wasn't just good and innocent, she was stubborn. Nothing would stop her now. It was all there: the fire in her eyes, the reddened cheeks. He loved all this about her, had loved it all about her mother, and it was going to get her killed. He was going to lose her too.

He made one last attempt. "No time to explain. You must go, now!"

She didn't hesitate. "I won't leave you."

Maurice's heart didn't have time to sink.

"_What are you doing here?_"

Cogsworth, hiding out of sight, rather felt that the Master had missed some of the finer points of the situation as related to him. That is, he had grasped the "intruder" part, but seemed to have overlooked the "young" and "female" elements. He could feel hope being snatched away from them, but compared to the terror of pointing something out to the Beast, eternity as a clock really didn't look that bad.

Belle stared into the darkness. She saw nothing. "Who's there? Who are you?"

"The Master of this castle."

So it was him. The monster who would treat an old man who had done nothing to harm him like the lowest of criminals. She was afraid now. She had imagined moments like this a thousand times: the heroine facing her fears, staring into the face of evil with a cool, level stare. She had always thought that courage would find her when she needed it, but all she felt now was desperation.

"Please," she begged, "let my father out. Can't you see he's sick?"

The curtain of darkness remained impenetrable. "He shouldn't have trespassed here."

"But he could die!" The words were a realisation. It had taken this long for the notion to formulate, but now it settled in her throat, almost choking her. She couldn't lose him. She just couldn't. "Please." She held back a sob. "I'll do anything."

"There's nothing you can do."

She wished she could see him. She wished she knew who he was, this man who was threatening to take everything from her. Only an hour ago her biggest problem had been Gaston, Gaston and his odious wedding cake! At least she knew what Gaston wanted. This man, this voice in the darkness, what did he want? Perhaps both answers were the same.

She didn't give the idea time to revile her. She lifted her chin and faced her fate.

"Take me instead."

"You!" And then, slowly, finally, the red mist faded and the Beast could see the situation clearly. What was he doing? This girl was a chance! The only chance the Enchantress had given him. Even if she was crazy. "You would take his place?" The man was half-dead! What did she stand to gain?

"If I did, would you let him go?"

The words winded Maurice. This couldn't be happening. Even in his worst nightmares, in his most horrific imaginings, nothing like this had ever happened. Belle was offering herself, for his sake, to a monster. Death couldn't possibly be worse than this. _Hell_ couldn't be worse than this. "Belle!" he cried. "No! You don't know what you're doing!"

The Beast blocked him out, focusing on the girl. He couldn't afford any distractions now. The old man was a detail. The landscape was salvation. He had to seal the deal. "Yes. But you must promise to stay here forever." He didn't trust promises, of course, but he didn't need to. There was nothing to stop him from keeping them both here at his leisure. The privileges of royalty and a dangerous animal were remarkably similar like that. But where they differed was that a Beast, unlike a Prince, could not simply command a woman to love him, and he was dimly aware that a promise might work better on that score than force. And anyway, there was always force to fall back on.

The girl thrust her chin at him. "Come into the light."

An unexpected development, but it had to happen sooner or later. He stepped forward. The girl gasped.

"No, Belle!" Maurice tried once more. "I won't let you do this!" But he didn't have that power anymore.

"You have my word."

"Done," the Beast snarled, and it was.

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><p><em>Again, only relatively subtle differences so far. I tried not to patronise you all by just repeating the movie where I didn't have to (hence the jump!), but since the whole point is to reinterpret what's actually there I had to keep suppressing the urge to re-write the dialogue. I hope it's interesting!<em>


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